EARLY SCHOOL INFLUENCES Starting in kindergarten, I went to the John F. Kennedy Elementary school, which most kids referred to as the 'JFK' or the 'jail for kids'. Looking back, it was not nearly deserving of the nickname... my neighborhood was primarily middle class white kids, and we never had any struggles, financial or otherwise, to overcome. But on my first day of fourth grade, I met my enemy: Mrs. B. As a straight A student, I was used to doing well in class; it wasn't that Mrs. B was necessarily a bad teacher, but somehow everything she said got on my nerves. Have you ever met that one teacher who comes off as pretentious, and tries to make you feel like you know less than them? That was Mrs. B. To give you some context of my fourth grade feelings, one morning our new spelling word of the day was 'beautiful'. Mrs. B's name happened to start with the letters b-e-a-u because she was French, so she repeatedly told us that the word was spelled after her name because she was so gorgeous. No wait, pretty, for those of us who didn't know what the really big word gorgeous meant. Painful? That's how I felt.
Fourth grade also happened to be the same year I got severe's disease in my heels. Severe's disease sounds a lot more serious than it actually is. Basically, the growth plates in your heels grow too fast for your Achilles tendon, so the tendon is stretched tight all the time. This makes running, jumping, and on some days walking, really difficult and painful. Severe's can put some kids in a walking boot, while only be exercise-induced for others. Unfortunately but fortunately, my case was in the middle. I still tried playing soccer (which was, even back then, my favorite sport), but I couldn't run too hard or too fast, so mostly I developed my defending skills. But every day at recess, my girlfriends and I would double dutch jump rope on the blacktop. And my dad told me that if I wanted to keep playing soccer, I wasn't allowed to jump rope at recess. As the jump rope queen, I cried for days when I found out that I wasn't allowed to anymore.
So fourth grade was rough from the start, and little me had no idea how to handle it. I hated my teacher, I couldn't play with my friends at recess, and that year we were also starting MCAS, the first standardized testing kids go through in Massachusetts. I was miserable, and for the first time, I began to not want to come to school. As autumn swept over the trees, the idea that had hatched in my head became ever more pressing. And then, I made it real by talking to my best friend Jess one Friday morning. "Hey, what do you think about leaving school during recess today?" I asked her. You see, the power lines that cut through the back end of the soccer fields were a shortcut to my neighborhood, and I knew how to get home from there. Jess was hesitant. She said she didn't think it was a good idea, but she really hated being in school too, so she would think about it. I told her I was done fearing the consequences, and little old me was just going to do it. She agreed to as well.
Recess came around and my adrenaline levels were so high I probably looked like I had eaten 20 pixie sticks before we began to run. We ran right along the fence, quiet and steady, hoping none of the teachers would notice. But since my school was well-staffed with competent teachers, one saw us and began chasing us down. When I heard her yelling, all the adrenaline left me and I turned around to look at Jess, who had stopped running about 20 yards behind me. As soon as we made eye contact, Jess started crying, which got me worked up too. We began to walk back towards the school in shame, hoping none of the other students had noticed our little attempted getaway. But the teacher who caught us had other plans. She yelled at us to stop crying immediately. Then, she made everyone line up early to end recess, and she publicly shamed Jess and I in front of all the other third and fourth graders by telling them about our endeavor and how we would be cleaning her room for the rest of the year instead of going to recess. I had never felt so embarrassed in my life.
The worst part came after, though. Once brought inside, I walked into the principal's office with my head low, only to find my mother crying in the chair next to the desk. I didn't even know what to say. Apparently the school had to call her twice to get her to come, because she didn't believe them the first time they called. Both ready and ashamed to face my consequences, I was first told that my friend Jess and I could no longer hang out during or after school, because I was a 'bad influence' on her. Second, I would spend the rest of the year's recesses cleaning the classroom of the teacher who had to chase us down. And third, I had to write a detailed letter to the principal explaining why I had run away. It was the question that burned in everyone's mind... how could quiet, studious Melissa pull a stunt like that? The weekend was awkward, to say the least. I begged my mom to not tell anyone in my family, to save the little reputation I had. And I wrote my letter about not wanting to take the MCAS instead of hating my teacher, because my teacher decided she would read the letter before I gave it to my principal. By the time Monday came, I was anxious about how my classmates were going to act around me. The last thing I expected was the applause that broke out when I entered the room, followed by claps on the back and a general feeling of admiration. My teacher shushed the class, and we began with our new spelling word of the week.
My mom says that I got all of my rebellion out in fourth grade. I didn’t make the connection until later, but for fifth grade my parents enrolled me in a small charter school one town over. The school focused on project-based education; developed students’ research, analytical and critical thinking skills; and got students involved in the community. My dad claims that he had been researching the school for a while, but I think my attempt to run away secured their decision. The school taught me great time management skills, work ethics, and made me a problem solver, things that today, I am cherishing.
Starting in kindergarten, I went to the John F. Kennedy Elementary school, which most kids referred to as the 'JFK' or the 'jail for kids'. Looking back, it was not nearly deserving of the nickname... my neighborhood was primarily middle class white kids, and we never had any struggles, financial or otherwise, to overcome. But on my first day of fourth grade, I met my enemy: Mrs. B. As a straight A student, I was used to doing well in class; it wasn't that Mrs. B was necessarily a bad teacher, but somehow everything she said got on my nerves. Have you ever met that one teacher who comes off as pretentious, and tries to make you feel like you know less than them? That was Mrs. B. To give you some context of my fourth grade feelings, one morning our new spelling word of the day was 'beautiful'. Mrs. B's name happened to start with the letters b-e-a-u because she was French, so she repeatedly told us that the word was spelled after her name because she was so gorgeous. No wait, pretty, for those of us who didn't know what the really big word gorgeous meant. Painful? That's how I felt.
Fourth grade also happened to be the same year I got severe's disease in my heels. Severe's disease sounds a lot more serious than it actually is. Basically, the growth plates in your heels grow too fast for your Achilles tendon, so the tendon is stretched tight all the time. This makes running, jumping, and on some days walking, really difficult and painful. Severe's can put some kids in a walking boot, while only be exercise-induced for others. Unfortunately but fortunately, my case was in the middle. I still tried playing soccer (which was, even back then, my favorite sport), but I couldn't run too hard or too fast, so mostly I developed my defending skills. But every day at recess, my girlfriends and I would double dutch jump rope on the blacktop. And my dad told me that if I wanted to keep playing soccer, I wasn't allowed to jump rope at recess. As the jump rope queen, I cried for days when I found out that I wasn't allowed to anymore.
So fourth grade was rough from the start, and little me had no idea how to handle it. I hated my teacher, I couldn't play with my friends at recess, and that year we were also starting MCAS, the first standardized testing kids go through in Massachusetts. I was miserable, and for the first time, I began to not want to come to school. As autumn swept over the trees, the idea that had hatched in my head became ever more pressing. And then, I made it real by talking to my best friend Jess one Friday morning. "Hey, what do you think about leaving school during recess today?" I asked her. You see, the power lines that cut through the back end of the soccer fields were a shortcut to my neighborhood, and I knew how to get home from there. Jess was hesitant. She said she didn't think it was a good idea, but she really hated being in school too, so she would think about it. I told her I was done fearing the consequences, and little old me was just going to do it. She agreed to as well.
Recess came around and my adrenaline levels were so high I probably looked like I had eaten 20 pixie sticks before we began to run. We ran right along the fence, quiet and steady, hoping none of the teachers would notice. But since my school was well-staffed with competent teachers, one saw us and began chasing us down. When I heard her yelling, all the adrenaline left me and I turned around to look at Jess, who had stopped running about 20 yards behind me. As soon as we made eye contact, Jess started crying, which got me worked up too. We began to walk back towards the school in shame, hoping none of the other students had noticed our little attempted getaway. But the teacher who caught us had other plans. She yelled at us to stop crying immediately. Then, she made everyone line up early to end recess, and she publicly shamed Jess and I in front of all the other third and fourth graders by telling them about our endeavor and how we would be cleaning her room for the rest of the year instead of going to recess. I had never felt so embarrassed in my life.
The worst part came after, though. Once brought inside, I walked into the principal's office with my head low, only to find my mother crying in the chair next to the desk. I didn't even know what to say. Apparently the school had to call her twice to get her to come, because she didn't believe them the first time they called. Both ready and ashamed to face my consequences, I was first told that my friend Jess and I could no longer hang out during or after school, because I was a 'bad influence' on her. Second, I would spend the rest of the year's recesses cleaning the classroom of the teacher who had to chase us down. And third, I had to write a detailed letter to the principal explaining why I had run away. It was the question that burned in everyone's mind... how could quiet, studious Melissa pull a stunt like that? The weekend was awkward, to say the least. I begged my mom to not tell anyone in my family, to save the little reputation I had. And I wrote my letter about not wanting to take the MCAS instead of hating my teacher, because my teacher decided she would read the letter before I gave it to my principal. By the time Monday came, I was anxious about how my classmates were going to act around me. The last thing I expected was the applause that broke out when I entered the room, followed by claps on the back and a general feeling of admiration. My teacher shushed the class, and we began with our new spelling word of the week.
My mom says that I got all of my rebellion out in fourth grade. I didn’t make the connection until later, but for fifth grade my parents enrolled me in a small charter school one town over. The school focused on project-based education; developed students’ research, analytical and critical thinking skills; and got students involved in the community. My dad claims that he had been researching the school for a while, but I think my attempt to run away secured their decision. The school taught me great time management skills, work ethics, and made me a problem solver, things that today, I am cherishing.